Do you even remember Myrtle Beach? A week’s vacation, a week away from work for the both of us. You snagged a timeshare and invited me along, touting it as “Spring Break Redux.” Really? At our age?
But I never could tell you no, and some downtime on the shore would be nice. We drove down late Monday afternoon—even though you were technically off the clock, your boss just had to call you in at the last minute for the monthly staff meeting. She knew we had plans, but you’re the only one who could explain the new server system set-up to the staff. I came into the office only to wait for you. They already had someone else covering my desk. Security guards are a dime a dozen; IT techs, not as common.
The timeshare was nice, right on the beach, with a breezy open floor plan and easy access to
